We Were Stormtroopers
by Cpt. Typho
Summary: The Clone Wars have ended and the Galaxy is transitioning to an Empire, as the Stormtroopers search out the remnants of the CIS and the Jedi Order, paving the way for the new Galactic Order.


Kain Drommus felt like he understood how a Sarlaac victim felt, long periods of uncomfortable accommodations, waiting in agony for something interesting to happen, but instead being slowly and painfully digested. Sure an outsider would find that assessment a slightly overexaggerated complaint stemming from a lack of patience, but spend one day at the Imperial Military Processing station (IMPS) and you'd change your tune.

Drommus' Stormtrooper Corps recruiter had led him to believe that one trip to IMPS for a physical, job selection, and background check would place him on a Star Destroyer to the Academy of Carida, but seven trips to IMPS later he was still job-less, each time coming home with just a new excuse for why he had to come back. Kain was sitting in the plainest, most uncomfortable chair (one of hundreds just like it in straight lines and columns) listening to easy-listening jazz (ironic name really) occasionally interrupted by the worst, corniest recruitment ads.

The walls on the rooms were covered with propaganda posters, of which Kain's favorite read as follows:

Ask an Army soldier what he does for a living and he will reply that he is in the Imperial Army.  
>Ask a Navy sailor what he does for a living and he will reply that he is in the Imperial Navy.<br>Ask a Stormtrooper what he does for a living and he will reply that he IS a Stormtrooper.

The one that irritated him though, was the poster with the Stormtrooper pointing at him, with the caption "WE WANT YOU!" Well I want to join you! Kain thought to himself irritated. Kain was waiting to be called back to the Stormtrooper's liason office, where he would talk to a Imperial Careers Councilor and pick which specific field in the Stormtrooper Corps he wanted to sign up for. The room he was in connected into three other rooms, one for the the Stormtroopers and two others at the other end of the room for the Imperial Navy and Army, and infuriatingly enough the Stormtrooper office was the only one that wasn't calling back applicants the whole bloody time. It had been the same story on both of his previous trips to IMPS, spending the entire day waiting while listening to the Army and Navy liaison officers call out name after name after name, until it was late in the afternoon and the only remaining people waiting were in line for the Stormtroopers. They kept telling Kain it had something to do with planetary quotas, but Kain was starting to wonder whether he was being told the whole truth.

Drommus' back was beginning to cramp up from the stiff sitting surface, and the harsh fluorescent lighting in the room was starting to tire him out. The sterile scent that was present in every government facility was beginning to make Kain hungry and antsy, as if the hours of fruitless waiting weren't enough. And now he was beginning to hear a distinct buzzing noise in his ear. It was faint and far away, as if calling out to him from a distant room and it was just barely distinguishable over the humming background noises in the room, and it was giving Drommus a headache trying to decide whether he should try to focus on it and hear it or ignore it and let it slip away.

After a few minutes of indecisiveness, the man sitting next to Kain, a tall lanky dark skinned man with short shaved hair and a neat goatee tapped Kain on his shoulder and said in a high-pitched, nasally voice, "Hey man, are you Drommus? I think they're calling you back there," he said as he pointed to the liaison officer in the doorway to the Stormtrooper Corps' counseling office.

As Kain turned to look at the uniformed officer in the doorway the officer caught his eye, and in a agitated and weary voice he asked, "DROMMUS?"

Kain nodded in acknowledgment and hurriedly sprung out of his seat, as if trying to get back to the office before the officer changed his mind.

"You deaf Drommus? Hurry up, I don't have all day," the officer said, barely masking his frustration with the new recruits,  
>and he gestured a hand toward the liaison office and lead his new applicant into the room that he had been waiting nearly a month to be allowed in.<p>

The Imperial Liaison Officer led Kain to a cubicle in the corner of the crammed office and took a seat behind the desk, gesturing for Kain to sit in the chair across from it. The desk took up most of the space in the office and Kain imagined that working in these cramped quarters all day would get really claustrophobic before too long. Maybe that's why all the IMPS employees are always so grumpy, Kain mused as the Liaison officer shuffled some paperwork into a big pile. The walls of the cubicle were plastered even heavier with propaganda posters than the waiting room had been. They don't miss an inch of wallspace.

The Imperial Officer, whose nametag read GRIBBS, shuffled the papers one more time and then cleared his throat and looked up at Drommus. "Okay Drommus, we've got your test scores back and it shows that you scored very well on the mechanical portion of the aptitude test. The Corps currently has pretty heavy need for mechanics, how do you feel about shipping out today?" Gribbs said, folding his stubby hands in front of him.

Kain could hardly contain his smile, "That would solve a lot of problems for me. Where do I sign?"

"I should be rotting in a prison cell right now," Keps thought to himself. The Rodian was sitting handcuffed to his sit on a Lambda-class Imperial shuttle en route to Bestine, the Imperial capital city of Tattooine. Around him were mostly humans, convicts and ex-criminals like himself that the Empire had rounded up back on Nar Shaddaa. They all had one thing in common, they were prime candidates to be admitted into the Stormtrooper Corps. So when they had been caught on Nar Shaddaa they were given a choice: Kessel Spice Mine worker, or becoming a part of the honored soldiers in the 732nd Legion.

It was a tough decision for Keps, but in the long run he decided back-breaking labor didn't sound like the way he wanted to spend the rest of his days, so he agreed to be carted to Tattooine, where the Empire was grouping several recruits from the nearby systems in the Outer Rim, and shipping them off to be the next group of Imperial Stormtroopers. At least it wasn't all bad, Keps thought to himself. I won't have to smuggle weapons for a living anymore, and now Varga the Hutt won't have his greedy little tail wrapped around my chain anymore. It's a chance to be my own man for once, and that thought dwelled in Keps' head for a while and it caused a warm glowing feeling to come over him.

Keps looked back out the window at the growing city-scape of Bestine stretching larger through the viewport as they neared closer and closer to the ground. Keps wished that this pathetic-excuse for a shuttle would move faster so he could get his arms out of these pulse-constricting stuncuffs. After several long grueling minutes, the shuttle finally pulled into port shuttered as it hit the ground, and the ramp hissed as it opened. Moments later Imperial officers shuffled into the main compartment with the same sense of self-righteous arrogance that seemed just as standard in the Imperial Navy as the silly looking little grey hats, and they uncuffed the convicts from their chairs, only to recuff their hands behind their backs seconds later.

The Imperial officers paraded the convicts down the shuttle's docking platform and onto the packed down sand that was so characteristic of Tattooine's cities, and immediately the organicness of the air refreshed and rejuvenated Keps. The air, albeit hot and arid, smelled so sweet and refreshing after twelve hours of being crammed in that shuttle surrounded by body odor and the stale smell of an old shuttle. Keps had heard rumors about how unforgiving the atmosphere on Tattooine was, and Keps realized that in his current state he probably wasn't an adequate judge of the truth in those rumors, but for right now he was drinking in the air like a tall glass of ice-cold lemonade.

The relief was short-lived however, as the convicts were then led into a waiting room filled with yet more stale air spiced with body odor. The men's hands were uncuffed from behind their backs, and they were then cuffed into chairs that seemed even tighter than the ones on the shuttle. Great more waiting, Keps thought to himself, quietly groaning to himself. Keps looked around the room, his eyes passing over his recent shipmates and instead surveying the eager and willing volunteers on the opposite side of the room. Most of the people in the room look annoyed and irritated, especially a well built, muscular human in line for the Stormtrooper's office. That recruits steel grey eyes seemed to burn with a fiery irritation and a hunger to be out in the battlefield.

His eyes strayed to another part of the large room, where some off-duty Stormtroopers were screwing around with what looked like a fake grenade. It was odd to see the normally stony-faced crusaders actually acting human for a change, even though one of them was actually a Trandoshan. It was comforting to know that the Stormtroopers retained at least of bit of who they are inside after going through basic training, especially considering how he was about to become one.

After several painful hours of waiting a uniformed officer approached Keps and removed the stuncuffs from his wrists. The feeling in his wrists slowly started to return as he shook his hands trying to get his circulation going. The Rodian was led back to the processing area and sat down in front of a durasteel desk, the officer taking a seat across from him behind the desk. The officer shuffled some papers on his desk, took a sip of some blueish liquid in a glass on his desk, and then looked up at Keps and said in an all-business tone, "Do you know why you are here recruit?"

"Aye sir," Keps replied in a tone that would rival Tattooine's dryness.

"Good then we'll get right to business. You'll be folded into Shadow Company of the 732nd Stormtrooper Legion. You ship out for basic training tonight, as soon as all the recruits here who are leaving today are through processing. You will be heading to the Imperial Military Academy of Carida and you will spend the next two months in basic training. Any questions?"

"Just one sir. What specialization am I going in for?"

"Based on your background, the Imperial Stormtrooper Corps figured you would be best suited for the recon-spec. After basic training is over, you will be sent to a recon Job Training School (JTS) the specific location of said JTS will be determined upon your completion of basic training. Any other questions?"

"No Sir," Keps said.

"Good," The officer said, "Then we'll just need a finger-print signature on this contract and an optical capture. Place your digit on this scanner," he said holding out a finger-scanner in Keps' direction. Keps placed his hand lightly on the scanner and a beam of red light ran across it digitally capturing the unique print on Keps' right index finger. "Very good, now just look into this light," he said holding up a device that looked like a large, very fat pen. Keps looked into the lens of the device and a bright blue flash of light filled the room and Keps felt like he was going to go blind. Blinking rapidly, his eyes watering his vision slowly returned and when he could see again the Imperial officer across from him was back to shuffling papers again.

When the officer realized that Keps had recovered he looked up and said, "Very good, you're all set here. Welcome to the cause my friend," the officer said saying the word friend as though Keps was the furthest thing from what he considered a friend. "Now you'll just need to go down to outfitting down the hall and they'll provide you with a formal uniform and you'll be all set to go."

Keps was led by another uniformed officer out of the room, out of the larger waiting room, and down a short hallway where they came to a room marked "Outfitting." Keps was amazed at just how many Imperial officers there were in this facility. Each one of these men started out just like these recruits, Keps mused to himself, I bet there's a pretty impressive collection of war stories gathered in this building.

Upon entering the cramped and cluttered Outfitting office, Keps was measured by a grungy looking Toydarian tailor, and after marking down his measurements the awkward little flying creature buzzed among the carts of uniforms and found Keps a khaki shirt and hat, and a pair of brown-themed camo pants. The Toydarian then measured his foot size, and after a slightly longer search, was able to bring Keps his rather rare small foot size black boots.

Keps awkwardly worked his way into the very snug outfit while his officer escort watched, and then he was led back to the hallway and into another room marked staging area. This room was about as large as the waiting room he has first been brought to, and was currently holding about a hundred recruits all eagerly awaiting being escorted onto a Star Destroyer. Keps slunk into a somewhat comfortable chair (more comfortable at least than the cruiser he had left a few hours ago) and leaned back to attempt a few hours' nap, while he awaited the next step in the process.

Tossk sat in a row of chairs lined up against the back wall of the large waiting room, facing out towards all the eager-faced Imperial applicants awaiting their interviews with the liason officers. But his attention was not on the crowd of newbies, but rather on the wires inside the opened shell of the thermal detonator he was messing around with. Most people would never dare hold a thermal detonator for too long, let alone even think of opening one up, but Tossk was fresh out of an Imperial Demolitions JTS and the wires were like a story to him now. Red and blue say hi to you, then when green meets black your ok Jack, Tossk recited in his head, as he connected the red and blue wires together, followed shortly by the green and black ones. Tossk popped the shell closed again and then gave the detonator a tentative shake, then mashed his thumb on the trigger button.

It clicked harmlessly, and Tossk let out a sigh of pride. There was a man about as young as him, maybe a little older sitting next to him who was completely zoned out in a daze of self-reflection. Tossk smirked and got on his feet, then let the thermal detonator drop, yanking the other trooper out of his daze and drawing his wide eyes in on the falling explosive.

When the grenade had reached his thigh, he brought his leg up and kneed the grenade back up into the air above his head. As it fell, he bounced it around from shoulder to shoulder, making sure he had fully captured the attention of his squadmate. As it fell from his shoulder a third time he reached out with his right hand and caught it, dramatically clicked the trigger, and tossed it into the other man's lap.

The other man freaked out, grabbing the grenade and chucking it away from his body, then ducking underneath the chair he had been sitting on and sheltered himself from the "imminent" blast with it while he curled up on the ground. The trooper who had been sitting on the other side of the poor lad was also spooked and he jumped out of his chair and leaned away from the "blast-zone." Tossk couldn't control himself and he broke out laughing, a very grungy and throaty chuckle that was typical of his fellow Trandoshans, and began to walk away from his victims and down the line towards the squad's Sergeant.

When the two men realized that the grenade was rigged not to blow they shouted at Tossk, mildly amused, "Nice Tossk! One of these days you're going to get us all killed with one of those things!"

Tossk looked back at them and shrugged, hardly able to keep the wide smirk off of his face. He turned back and faced his close friend, Sergeant Blah Blah Blah. The two of them had been friends ever since they had gone to basic together and they shared the same sort of cynical sense of humor. "Hey Dak, you find him yet?" Tossk asked impatiently.

Dak looked over with his weary blue eyes telling the tale of the long hours of waiting that Alpha Squadron had been doing in this remote recruiting office all day. The bags under the poor humans eyes were a testament to how little sleep Tossk's superior had gotten the last few days. Dak had always hated flying, Tossk mused to himself.

"Ah Tossk," Dak murmured, "No not yet. It's impossible to make anyone out in this large crowd, but I'm going to keep looking. Any reason you threw a grenade at Lawson?" he asked not bothering to hide the amusement that he knew Tossk would know was there.

"It's rigged not to detonate. Learned that from a retired Army Captain when I processing at an IMPS on Coruscant about a year back. Plus it's hilarious! Did you see the way he jumped out of his seat when I tossed it at him?"

Dak sighed and chuckled softly, "It was pretty funny, I'll give you that."

"When's your brother scheduled to arrive?" Tossk asked, changing the subject.

"He should be here at 1700," Dak replied yawning.

Tossk sighed impatiently, "Well I'm gonna take a nap. Wake me when we get moving."


End file.
